Claire simmered on the inside. It seemed like Apollo was planning to use his wealth to crush her. She knew nearly everything about this nemesis of hers.
Apollo was born into luxury diapers, marble lobbies and large bedrooms in which her family’s living room could be fitted and multiplied fifty times. He was the third son of a family whose name was synonymous with luxury hotels across continents.
His great, great grandfather had built the Ashford empire from a single seaside inn into a global conglomerate of resorts, skyscraper hotels and private islands. Apollo’s grandfather Ares was the current patriarch of the family and current CEO of the company. His father Griffin Ashford was the next in line and already shadowing the old man in every meeting, every gala, every whispered negotiation. It was already rumored that Apollo’s eldest brother Luca was to be next in line, after his father.
Apollo, as the third son was both privileged and overlooked. Luca was groomed for diplomacy. The second brother Hugo was an expert in finance. Apollo, meanwhile, was expected to smile, look handsome, and not embarrass the family name. But he had embarrassed that name plenty of times with his playboy-like lifestyle.
Somehow, this lifestyle seemed to attract more female clients to their hotels! Apollo’s charm was sickeningly wondrous.
In school, he was the natural genius who still threw parties in the dorms during exams. He often sneaked out with his friends to race cars and get into all sorts of trouble. Teachers called him disruptive but didn’t dare to expel him. Classmates called him unforgettable.
Right now, Claire wished she could forget that she had ever come across him today. How was she supposed to explain to her grandmother the loss of her precious bike?
Claire’s chest heaved as she glared at Apollo’s goons. She opened her mouth to unleash a tirade on "criminal stupidity," but the words tangled with dizziness. The world tilted. Her knees buckled.
She swayed like a tree in a hurricane and found herself in the arms of a sturdy chest. That chest had a very familiar scent: Apollo’s scent!
"No!" She whispered weakly. "You should just let me hit the ground," she begged.
But Apollo’s arms wrapped around her, steady and annoyingly heroic. "I must be under a curse today," he muttered, though a smirk betrayed how much he enjoyed the irony. Surely, Claire Dane would scrub her skin raw when she got home today, just because he had touched her. "Take a picture," he told one of his bodyguards.
The security guard blinked in confusion. "Sir, I think she needs a doctor."
"Just one second," Apollo grinned and his guard took a vivid picture.
Claire blinked up at him, barely conscious. "So much stupid," she murmured, before her eyes fluttered shut.
The crowd gasped. Nurses rushed out, pushing a gurney, but Apollo refused to hand Claire over. He carried her toward the hospital entrance, as if he wanted the whole world to see what he was doing. He could already see the pictures flooding the internet and he just knew Claire would faint again, when she saw them.
Inside the hospital, staff scrambled. Apollo barked orders like he owned the place. "Get her the best private room. And the best doctors on call."
Within a minute, Claire was surrounded by the very best doctors in the hospital. Apollo was outside the door, pacing nervously, hoping the few seconds he had insisted on using to have a picture taken would not lead to Claire’s death.
A few minutes later, a young male doctor walked out with a relaxed look on his face. An older one followed and the rest who had smiles on their faces.
"What’s wrong with her?" Apollo barked.
The young male doctor replied, "Low blood sugar. She will be fine in about fifteen minutes."
An older female doctor with the largest spectacles Apollo had ever seen walked out of the room and stood next to the young male doctor. "You must be her family. What were you thinking, letting a pregnant woman starve for a whole day? Go and buy her a cup of orange, apple or grape juice. A glass of milk can also work. She needs food and I mean real food--some chicken, sweet potatoes, avocado." She slipped a card from her pocket into Apollo’s trembling right hand. "If you both can’t cook, call this number. They specialize in preparing and delivering healthy meals to expectant mothers at their doorstep."
Doctor Mindy did not notice that Apollo was pale, and his hands were trembling so much that the card slipped and fell to the ground.
"Did I hear you say that Claire is pregnant?" He asked.
"Yes." Doctor Mindy nodded.
Apollo’s voice rose, breaking slightly. "How far along?"
"Seven weeks." The older woman replied with a frown. "Aren’t you aware?"
Apollo laughed nervously and softly. "Could it be two weeks?"
Doctor Mindy pushed her glasses upward. "Seven weeks."
"Three weeks?" Apollo asked, hopefully.
"Seven weeks."
He raised his hand. "How about five?"
The doctor replied flatly. "Skip to seven."
A sound that was close to a whimper came from Apollo as he slowly walked backwards until his back hit the wall.
Doctor Mindy cleared her throat, but her frown deepened. "Have I made a mistake? Are you not the father? The nurses said her husband carried her anxiously into the hospital and demanded for the presence of all the experts. I assumed you were him. If I am mistaken, point me in the right direction."
A bodyguard stepped forward to correct the narrative, but Apollo pushed forward and intercepted his man. "You have not made a mistake. I am her husband, and the father of her child."
The three bodyguards went still. One nearly gasped but controlled himself.
"Oh, good." Doctor Mindy declared. "I have shared this kind of news with the wrong person before. Different circumstances of course. Follow me to my office, I will need to give you practical instructions to support her health, safety, and comfort."
She turned and so did Apollo, whose legs were trembling like never before. He was barely listening to the doctor, because his thoughts were scattered. Of all the women in the world, he had somehow gotten the one that infuriated him the most pregnant!
In his defense--she had initiated the whole thing and vanished before they could talk.
Apollo remembered the night clearly. He had been mostly drunk and asleep in his room. She had somehow opened his door and stumbled into his bed, muttering something about how she had wanted to do it with him all night. The next morning, when he realized it was her and not his new girlfriend, he had freaked out.
He decided to take a bath and have a proper conversation with her but by the time he stepped out of the bathroom, she had vanished. When he tried to contact her, he found that she had blocked all avenues of communication.
Apollo had assumed she wanted to pretend it never happened and continue playing the good girlfriend to the cheating boyfriend.
He had kept tabs on her after that. Claire had not met Andrew since that convention; she had been busy taking business trips. Andrew had been busy screwing the cheaper version of Claire--Ritah.
If Claire was seven weeks pregnant, he was sure it was his.
Apollo shook his head. "I am having a baby with Claire Dane!" He stopped and grimaced. In his mind, he could already hear a baby’s voice calling him ’stupid.’ "Oooh, this is a nightmare." he muttered.